


Just a kid

by Minkey222



Series: Peter Parker is young, dumb and reckless (and also in constant pain) [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, No Smut, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, seriously, someone please help him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 03:44:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11592243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minkey222/pseuds/Minkey222
Summary: It was about the time in the night where Peter started to think about going home when a shrill noise enters his ears.





	Just a kid

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I don't even know. Months of not writing anything then I bang this out in an hour and a half. Don't ask, so sue me. I don't even know what this is... Bad ending? yeah I know. Just, if you read please leave reviews and if I need to tag anything or change anything feel free to message me, I want to know if I've done something wrong.  
> Enjoy!

It was one of that kind of days, The patrol was slower than usual and it was about the time in the night where Peter started to think about calling it quits (despite that constant niggling feeling that he shouldn’t stop- couldn’t stop because what if something happens and Spiderman isn’t around to stop it (which in itself is a stupid notion because of course he can't blame himself for every bad thing that happens in New York simply because he wasn’t around to stop it- that thought sounded suspiciously like Mr Stark for Peter to be comfortable)) when a shrill noise pervaded Peter’s ears. Sometimes Peter grows resentful of his enhanced senses when things such as this happen to him- especially when they catch him off guard but never-the-less attaching himself to the nearest lamppost and swinging down over to the entrance the dark alleyway. A twisted feeling emerges in the very depths of his stomach telling him to move along and to not delve into this alley; this thought is probably fueled by all the horror movies that he watches because if they taught him anything it is to not go into dark alleyways by yourself at night. But Peter does because he is dumb, young and reckless. And also Spiderman. 

Yeah. He’s also Spiderman (so he pretends that he isn’t shaken up by the darkness he faces).

Squaring his chest he takes a step further into the alley and takes a moment to address the situation. Through the lack of light he can just about make out the outline of two figures, one stood and one on the floor. Taking another couple silent steps he can work out the standing figure appears to be a man in his 20s? Maybe older than that but he appears to be a young adult. Yet another step forwards allows him to see the prone figure on the floor- a girl, a teenager, certainly. At this distance he can hear some words, the man appears to be threatening the poor girl. He’s waving a knife around to accompany the pointed words, hushed through gritted teeth. The smell of blood is pungent. 

The knife isn’t just for show then.

There’s a thick weight in Peter’s stomach. He refuses to address it as he creeps along. He has a moment as the man leans forwards towards the girl to attack- which he makes use of well. As the man leans forwards, Peter pounces out from his position, webbing his hand and pulling him backwards away from the girl (Peter refuses to acknowledge how her dress is torn in places that make him ill to think about). Webbing the guy's other hand he pulls him closer and by twisting Peter forces him into the wall. The guy collides with the wall painfully and falls to the ground with an audible thud. Peter webs him tightly- tighter than usual- and begins to approach the girl.

“H-hey” His voice breaks on the single syllable like his body is rebelling against him. The girl stays silent. Peter takes a step closer.

“He hurt you?” Peter sounds uncertain and winces at the stupid question.

“I mean, yeah, he hurt you- of course, he hurt you, that’s why you screamed and-” Peter backtracked painfully, the girl continued to stare at him, pale and wide eyed but she doesn’t sink away when he takes another couple steps towards her. God, he wants to sink into the floor right now. He doesn’t know how to deal with her- Heck, he’s just a kids, he’s younger than her and-

“Yeah,” The small voice cuts through his thoughts like a knife and even that pounds in his head like a hammer. 

“Yeah,” The voice appears again, “H-he hurt me,” And Peter doesn’t know what to do other than to kneel down at her side, his eyes level with hers (he pretends he doesn’t see the hurt in them (he pretends he doesn’t see himself in her)). Putting his hand on the floor to lean over his fingers squelch in an unpleasant liquid and every part of his body screams ‘please don’t be blood, please don’t be blood, please don’t be blood-’

 

Surprise, it's blood.

 

There’s a burning sensation at the back of his throat.

 

“How did he- Did he stab you or…?” He trails off because he simply doesn’t know what to say to her. He’s just a kid, he can't- He can’t deal with it, with this. He ignores how his breaths are coming more and more shallow under the mask. He can feel his pulse hammering under his skin.

“No. He didn’t- I don’t think he stabbed me,” Her voice is too small, too light and too loud all at the same time. Peter’s skin quivers.

“Did he- Did he…?” He can’t say it, he can’t. He cannot. Nope, will not. The words get stuck in his throat all the same. 

She doesn’t say anything, she just averts his eyes and that’s all he needs to know. (He can’t help but see himself in her and he hates himself just a little for it). He tries not to notice how the blood pools around her thighs (he tries not to see himself in that too).

“I should probably take you to the hospital or something,” he provides dumbly. He goes to touch her arm but she moves as if he burned her (his skin is poison, his skin is poison, his skin is-), she still can’t look him in the eyes.

“I don’t want your pity,” It’s soft and defiant and his voice sings loud and true in her statement (his brain screams stop thinking, stop thinking-). 

“It’s not- I’m not- This isn’t pity. I-” His words pool in a puddle at his feet like grains of sand and his fingers struggle to grasp at them. His breaths come even more uneven and shallow and his vision blackens around the edges-

 

_ (A small boy sits on the edge of a sofa, his hands grasped in between his legs, his bottom lip worried between his teeth. His aunt sits resolutely opposite him, his uncle wrapped around her; a fire in both of their eyes. And tears. Oh, so many tears. _

_ “I don’t want your pity,” The boy says quietly- so quiet that both adults strain to hear it. _

_ “Oh, Peter, I’m so, so sorry”) _

 

“-piderman? Hello? Are you okay?” Peter can feel the wetness pooling around his cheeks. The meek, scared girl is now crouched in front of him, lightly touching his arm and waving her free hand in front of his face. She’s calling his name, he thinks. He can’t really tell, his ears don’t feel attached to him. He feels like he’s in some fake simulation. His body isn’t his own. But it is. He can feel the gritty wall dig uncomfortably into his back. It's slippy, damp- when did it rain? Earlier today perhaps, Peter can’t remember, he really should remember to check the weather before patrolling. He wouldn’t want to slip and fall down, down, down off of a building- he could die, there on a sidewalk, blood pooling around him just like uncle Ben (which was his fault, his fault, his-)

“-rman, I’m really worried, should I call an ambulance or something?” Oh right, she’s still worried about him. He waves her away (distinctly not noticing how she flinches away from his hand)

“I’m fine” He croaks. He’s not fine. He’s fine but he’s not. He’s- He’s. He doesn’t know what’s going on inside of him at that moment. Everything feels really distant. Everything except the clammy hand on his too hot skin. The hand belonging to the girl who he found in an alley in a pool of blood after being- oh. Oh, yeah. He needs to help her. That’s why he’s here.

 

(With great power comes great responsibility- yeah, yeah)

 

He shakes off her hand and stands on shaky legs. He offers the girl a hand up. He thinks that he should stop calling her ‘girl’ in his head.

“Then you can call me Trace” Oh, had he said that aloud? Oh. That’s a thing that happens now.

“You’re hurt,” She blushes and looks down. “You should get some help,”

“You’re helping me,” She provides, he shakes his head,

“I can’t help you in the way you need,” she takes a deep breath in and he follows suit.

“I can handle it,” she doesn’t look like she can handle it. She huffs a self-deprecating laugh,

“Thanks,” (damn, had he said that aloud again? He really needs to stop doing that).

“I’ll take you to the hospital,” His head is a bit dizzy but he’s filled with the overwhelming urge to help her (just like no one helped you- shut up, shut up shut-).

“I-” She’s hesitant.

“Please, just- let me at least take you somewhere safe?” she relaxes minutely but not by much. Her jaw muscle rolls.

“Okay,” She breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth, “Okay,” She repeats, “You can take me to my apartment,” and Peter just nods because sure it’s not a hospital but at least it’s safe (he hopes it’s safe, God he hopes it’s safe).

“Do you live with anyone?” He asks as he walks her to the end of the alley. He hopes she has someone to go home to, he doesn’t want her to be alone. She pulls her coat closer around herself as the chill sets in. She nods as she looks the other direction down the lit street.

“I live with a friend,” He’s glad she’s not alone.

The walk to her apartment is spent in silence. The sidewalk is basically empty at this time of night. He’s glad for it. His head still feels like it’s full of cotton. Trace’s grip on his arm is tight but not uncomfortable. He’s not sure for whose sake it is for. He doesn’t really mind.

Trace’s friend waits by the apartment door when they arrive and he passes her over silently. The friend is thankful and showers him with gratitude as they usher Trace in and leave Peter out in the cold street alone. He’s glad she’s not alone tonight.

 

He swings home silently afterwards. His body feeling laden down with lead (he’s surprised that his webs can even hold him up with all the shame and horror filling up his body). Aunt May is awake when he gets home- he realises belatedly that he forgot to text her that he wasn’t going to be home on time (he feels the gritty feeling of dried blood on his gloves and the burning feeling at the back of his throat comes back). He pulls the mask off and looks at her. Her face is wrinkled in worry- his mind chants ‘you did this, you did this’. She looks like she’s going to start ranting at him when she catches his eye. She sees the tears gathering in them and in an instant she’s up and hovering her hand on his arm as if she’s afraid to touch him. He all but leaps into her arms and hugs her tightly. He doesn’t say anything as they embrace, neither does she. It’s quiet, it’s understanding and it isn’t judgemental. 

He pulls away. He looks at the floor. His fingers pick at the mask in his hands.

“Thank you,” He whispers, his bottom lip worried in between his teeth.

“What for?” He almost expects to look up and see Uncle Ben wrapped around her. He remembers when he told them. He’d never seen Ben look so angry and righteous. He’d never seen May look so sad. That look in her eye, he’d never been able to erase it in his mind, but he knew, as much as she was sad she wasn’t pitying.

“For not pitying me,” She looks at him with an odd look in her eye. It seems so long ago and yet not long ago enough.

He remembers Skip. He remembers being left alone with him. He remembers- He remembers everything. He remembers telling aunt May and uncle Ben. He remembers sitting them down, he remembers talking to them. He remembers the taste of stomach acid on his tongue. 

He’s glad she doesn’t pity him. He doesn’t know what he would do if she did.

God, he’s just a kid. But at the same times, he’s Spiderman. 

He shakes his head.

He takes the suit off- underneath he’s just Peter Parker, he’s just a kid.

He goes to bed and he sleeps.

Yeah, it was just one of those kinds of days.


End file.
